Love

"In the end, why we do things is probably more important than what we do.  Motives matter.  They matter a lot.  And one of the purest motives of all is love." *

It was warm enough today that my kids shed their jackets five minutes after we started jumping on the trampoline.  It was warm enough that Sidekick Sister was happy to run through our grass barefoot when they were done jumping.  It was warm enough that she was able to find a square full of onion tops in the grass so she sat down, pulled them and nibbled on them.  It was warm enough that a purple flowering weed that loves my yard more than any chemical can crush, was growing in happy abundance under the sun.

Sidekick sister is always thrilled to stumble on the stuttering purple of this particular weed.  It takes eyes to see the tiny purple balls of bloom through the green lobed foliage, and she's got 'em.  She started picking the flowers, collecting them, and then sorting them on top of the green lid of our septic tank in perfect feminine happiness.  While she went about her work humming her joy, Little Linebacker, ever the mimic, picked one too.  Then he came over to me and held up the weed, his blue eyes looking intently at me and said, "Happy Mudders Day."  I pinched the proffered tiny stalk of the plant between my thumb and my pointer finger and said, "Thank you."  Then he trotted off until he found another nib of purple.  As soon as he pulled it loose he came running to me again, "Happy Mudders Day."

"You sweet thing.  My silly boy.  My heart that beats in another chest.  You thoughtful goose."  I was his.  He had me.  Every mess I've cleaned up, every tantrum I've witnessed or been the target for, every fight with his sister I've broken up, easily worth it.  Because he loves me.

I'd like to sprinkle my ambitions with the insides of those flowers.  I'd like to encase all my wishes in the resin that weeps from the green stems.  I'd like to spray the pollen of those flowers like a poison developed specifically against the DNA of my personal selfishness.  I feel like success and the realization of all my dreams lies that-a way.

Maybe I should tell the weed killer guys not to come back for a while.  Just a rumination anyway.

*Oh darn, I threw away the magazine I got this quote out of.  For all you BYU alums, this comes from the last BYU magazine - it was an adaptation of a devotional some guy gave.  There, now I feel like I gave credit where credit is due.  Fewf.  Even ten years out from graduating I still get the shivers at the thought of inadvertently plagiarizing.